


Every Minute of Every Hour

by safe_haven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-12-30 21:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18322190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safe_haven/pseuds/safe_haven
Summary: "I will write you a new sky."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please, please stay safe. No description of self harm, but description of why/how. .. I wrote this in 10 minutes on my phone. It was purely projecting. I was rejected from a school I really wanted to get into earlier today and I considered killing myself.

“Hello, Mr. Stark sir.” 

Tony was about to correct Peter, but something felt off about the way Peter greeted him. Tony chose his next words carefully; he never knew what was going through Peter's head. 

“Hey, kid,” he began. “What are you up to?” He heard shifting, and then something that sounded like Peter sniffing loudly. Was he.. crying? 

“Well, Mr. Stark. I'm sitting on top of a building. You know that science school I really wanted to get into? I didn't. I didn't get in. And I told myself that I would commit suicide if I didn't get in. So, here I am, I guess.” 

There was a pause. 

A silence. 

Tony's head processed the words Peter had said, and his heart skipped a beat. He began to back away from the workspace he was standing at. Shock pumped through his veins, and he swallowed hard, blinking. 

“What?” he whispered. 

Peter's voice seemed calm, almost happy. “Yeah. I just felt like that school was the one last thing holding me to life and now it's gone, you know? So why not kill myself?” 

“That isn't funny, Parker,” Tony growled. He hoped and prayed as loud as he could within his own mind that this was just a joke. Once the initial shock rolled over, he suited up as quietly as he could, focused on distracting Peter while he got to him. 

“I'm sorry, Mr. Stark. It's not a joke.” Pause. “I'm sorry, Mr. Stark.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, kid. Okay? You hear me? You have nothing to apologize for. Friday, track Peter's location.” The second part was said with his hand over the receiver, as quietly as he could. He watched as Peter's location was pinpointed. 

“I just thought I should tell you goodbye and everything. So you can find a replacement. Hey, maybe you can find a spider and feed it some poison and have it bite someone else. That'd be cool. I think that'd be cool, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony set out as quickly as he could to Peter's location. “Yeah,” he murmured, distracted. “Sure, kid.” 

“Please don't come to get me. I'm fine, I promise I am. I'm fine, Mr. Stark.” The comment surprised Tony; Peter must have known he would track his location as he did. Against the kid's wishes, Tony kept going. He was zeroing in on where Peter was about to jump to his death.  

“Kid, I'm going to get you. You know I have to.” He heard Peter take an unsteady breath. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Stark.” 

Just as Tony was about to start shouting for Peter to stay, the line went dead. Tony cursed loudly; there were still a few minutes before he got to the kid. He couldn't afford to lose him. He couldn't afford to lose anyone. 

Panic turned his body to ice. One minute. He could see Peter now, standing on the edge. He was staring at the ground like it was the only thing that could save him. “Kid, please,” Tony begged, though Peter couldn't hear him. “Kid, please don't jump.” 

Right on cue, Peter tipped forward, and began his fall. Tony yelled his name, diving at him with every last bit of hope he had. 

_ Please don't hit the ground.  _

He snagged a piece of Peter's shirt at the last second, dragging him up and over until he was resting safely in Tony's arms. They flew together, fast as light. Peter's eyes were empty, staring up at the purple blur that he assumed was the sky. There were no stars tonight, something he was disappointed in. He wanted to say goodbye to the stars before he left. 

When they made it back to the tower, Tony set Peter down as softly as he could. Still, he collapsed like a rag doll, limp and light. Tony caught him again, and helped him over to the nearest couch. 

When Peter finally fell comfortably, he sighed, closing his eyes and turning his face to the ceiling. Tony stepped out of the suit, kneeling so he could see if Peter had any injuries. It was now Tony noticed the hundreds of long, deep scars covering Peter's wrists. Some were still bleeding. 

“What the hell, kid,” Tony whispered. 

Peter took a deep breath. He shrugged. “I wanted to get into that school,” he said, as if that answered every insane thing he had ever done. 

“That doesn't...You shouldn't...That doesn't mean you kill yourself,” Tony said, voice quiet and shaking. A few minutes passed in silence before he reached forward, taking Peter's wrist in his hand. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” he suggested. Surprisingly, Peter didn't fight back. In fact, he still seemed calm. Maybe it was shock. Or maybe the emotions that caused Peter to jump off a fucking roof ran far deeper and farther back than Tony would ever know. 

Tony led Peter to a bathroom, and Peter sat on the toilet as Tony ran two cloths under cold water. He began to wipe away the fresh and dried blood gently. He was careful not to hurt Peter too badly. 

“It stings when you cut yourself like this,” Peter said, voice empty and distracted. “It always stings. Badly. I think the worst was when I used a disposable razor and I dragged it across my wrist. I almost passed out from the pain.” Tony didn't know what to say to this, so he didn't say anything at all. His heart was breaking.

“It distracts me. When I see the blood, when it hurts, and it hurts. It hurts. I can't think about anything but the pain. It helps.” Peter flinched when Tony rubbed a little too hard with his washcloth.  

Tony used a dry cloth to pat around Peter's arm. He began to put bandages on it. 

“I've tried to kill myself by cutting my arms before. Not by cutting the vein, but by cutting so much and so deeply that I bled out. I think cleaning up the blood is the worst part. I'm always exhausted after it and it makes me sick. Always makes me sick. Doesn't help me forget anything. God, I really wish I had gotten into that school.” 

Tony finished putting the bandages on Peter's wrist and sat in silence for a few seconds. He stared at the bandages, his mind running wildly through all that had happened in the past hour. Why hasn't he known? How could he possibly not notice the way Peter always hid his wrists? Always lingered just a little too long on the edge of a building? 

Finally, Tony got up, pulling Peter into a crushing hug. “I'm so sorry, he choked out. “Kid, I am so, so sorry."


	2. Wise Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was better. I got a lot of support from the people at my school. The beginning of the following chapter is based on a conversation I had with my pre-cal teacher, with whom I am very close. (Ronny B if you're reading this, thank you for letting me cry on your good shirt)

When everything had more or less calmed down, Peter sat in a chair. His jacket was unzipped and sliding halfway down his shoulders. His eyes were distant and empty, and silent tears traced his face. He took a deep, shuddering breath in, his shoulders shaking with the effort of it.

"Are you okay, kid?" Tony asked quietly. It was a stupid question, of course, but Peter didn't comment on that. Instead, he looked up, eyes shining bright with fresh sadness. 

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just disappointed." 

He shrugged his shoulder, reaching up one bandaged wrist to tug at the sleeve of his jacket. It didn't make it onto his shoulder; Tony assumed it was a subconscious effort to move his hands in any way. They sat in silence for all of two seconds before Tony found himself offering advice. 

"Life will kick your teeth in, kid," he said. Peter didn't seem surprised by this. He actually seemed grateful that Tony was filling the silence, as well as giving him advice. As pessimistic as it was. It was advice. "It will knock you down. You just have to get up, keep trying." This part seemed a little cliche, but that didn't stop it from meaning the world to Peter. Though he still looked spaced out and depressed, he felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. 

Tony couldn't tell if his words were getting through, so he kept going. "But it was a learning experience, right? You applied to that school. That's something huge. Life will teach you every hard lesson you let it." Peter nodded, rubbing at the tears in his eyes. His face was starting to regain its color. His breathing was starting to slow down to a normal rate. Though he didn't feel better- he didn't think he would ever feel better- he was beginning to accept the fact that he would have to live out his junior and senior year at the high school he started it at. 

It was going to be awful. It was going to be a hard fight. But at the end of the day, he wasn't alone. He still had Ned. Tony continued talking, hoping Peter was listening. "You applied. And that's good. It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." Peter took this in, closing his eyes and trying to balance out what he was feeling inside. Tony was right; he was okay. He would be okay. In spite of everything, he was still alive. The moment he opened the rejection letter, he felt the worst pain he had ever felt. And he had survived. Here he was. Breathing. Living. 

There was a comfortable silence in which Tony thought Peter would finally be okay. He considered letting Peter go home for the night without suicide watch. The kid finally looked at peace. Then, his phone buzzed. 

He pulled it out, examining the lock screen for the source of the disturbance. A huge smile spread across his face. His best friend, Ned, had sent him a text. Whatever it was, it was bound to be funny, and pull him out of the darkness he had been plunged into. 

Tony watched him with a relieved smile on his lips. It seemed as though everything would be okay. Tony watched, then, as Peter's face turned. From content to broken. From broken to angry. Tony's heart skipped a beat, turning his veins to ice. What could have possibly happened? He just calmed Peter down enough for him to breathe correctly. What was wrong? 

"Ned got in," Peter said quietly. "Ned got into the school." 

Fear flooded Tony; he had no idea what reaction Peter would have to this news. He watched as everything in this kid's life crumbled. 

"This isn't fair," he said. His breathing quickened, to the point where his skin gained a pallor. "This isn't fucking _fair_." He yelled it this time, beginning to get up from his seat and go God knows where. 

Tony managed to catch him in time, nearly tackling him back down into a seat. Peter started sobbing again, uncontrollably, his whole body shaking violently. Tony couldn't imagine the kind of torture that tonight had put him through. Tony covered Peter's face and head as if protecting him from falling debris. He patted his hair gently, trying not to cry as they sat together. He rocked the kid back and forth, shushing him softly. 

"Sh. It's okay, I promise. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not going to leave you." 

It took a few minutes to get Peter calm again. Thankfully, he didn't seem as distraught as he was when he found out that he didn't get in. 

Peter forced himself to ground his thoughts. He felt Tony's arms around him, trying desperately to put his shivering frame at ease. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled himself out of his silence. "I'm okay," he whispered. At least he hadn't thrown up like he had when he was crying over the rejection letter. 

Tony told himself that he would have to put Peter on suicide watch, if just for tonight. Peter would have to stay at the tower, and they would see how he was doing in the morning. "I know you feel like your world is crumbling around you. I know you feel like you're never going to be happy again but you have to stay with me, okay? You just have to stay with me." 

Once Peter could think clearly again, he buried his face in the fabric of Tony's work clothes. The gesture was so childlike and innocent that Tony's heart broke all over.  _Everything that has tried to kill you so far has not succeeded. You will be okay. You have survived this far,_ Peter thought, the calming mantras on repeat in his head.

Finally, Peter eased himself in a sitting position, and Tony released his grip on him. 

"You're going to have to stay the night in the tower," Tony told him. "Just for suicide watch." 

Peter's head felt heavy and clouded, as it always did after a hard cry. He felt as though a heavy pressure were pressing against the inside of his skull. His eyes were red and puffy, his skin pale and the underneath of his eyes a deep purple. He collected himself, nodding along to Tony's words. When he processed what the words meant, a kind of relief rolled through him. He could try to distract himself here. Not with May, who would be asking where he's been and if he got in. If anyone asked him about the school, he thought he might die on the spot. 

Just as Tony was beginning to help the weak kid to his room for the night, Steve walked in. He seemed kind of surprised to find Peter there, but he smiled. 

"Hey, Parker," he greeted. "You get into that school?" 

Peter burst into tears. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I wrote this in ten minutes on my phone. I'm going to be okay. After all is said and done, I will make it out of this. Anyway, I hope you guys are doing okay and having a wonderful day. Keep fighting.


	3. I'm Breaking Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is quickly just becoming a place where I dump my thoughts about Governor's School. The following is a conversation between me and my best friend (trigger warning- slight mention of self destruction)

"Bro I'm getting my hair cut Friday and you are going to fucking hate it. Let me tell you."

MJ slapped Peter across the face.

"Sorry. Reflex. That set off my fight or flight response."

Though this was obviously not the case, Peter assumed he deserved the slap; he and MJ were constantly fighting over how bad his hair looked (e.x "I'm going to the doctor. Maybe they can help." "Bro how the fuck is the doctor supposed to know why your hair looks so bad?"). Peter rubbed his face, though it barely stung.

"Don't do it." MJ was yelling, but it was playful. "I swear to God this is not the way to deal with Governor's school."

Peter played along with her yelling, voice shaking. "Yes, it is!" This was their bit; MJ yelled and Peter yelled back, voice shaking because of the "pure power" radiating off of MJ and coursing through Peter's veins. He once described this to Tony and he considered getting him a therapist for a moment.

"Why can't you just be rejected, Peter? Why you gotta be ugly and rejected?"

"Let me dye it red again!" Oh, yeah. Peter had red hair. It was the phase to end all phases.

"For fuck's sake, take it out on your clothes!"

Peter had managed to pull up a picture of who he was basing his cut off of. Anyone could see it would not be a good look on Peter, but he forged on with his dumb idea. "You are going to hate me."

"You will not look like that! You will not!"

"I will look exactly like that!"

"Do not do this! Bro cut your clothes! Rip your shirts! Rip your jeans!"

MJ often yelled at Peter for making himself more ugly every time he had a breakdown over something. It always made Peter feel bad because most times, he thought he looked cute. MJ always seemed to disagree. He was starting to feel bad now, doubting his decision. Still, he yelled.

"Let me fuck myself up!"

"No! I will not!"

"I am going to look like Steve Rogers!"

MJ shook his shoulders. "No, you're fucking not! Listen to me! Do not be an ugly loser! Do not be an ugly loser, you hear me?" MJ slapped him across the face again, this time a little harder.

Peter officially decided not to get the haircut.

"I want you to be gorgeous and I want you to hold yourself together so that when people see you they don't think, 'So that's the person that didn't get into Governor's School.' I want them to think, "Why didn't they get in?'"

Peter had nothing to say to this, so he just laughed.

"Listen, I am not doing anything this week. I will come over to your fucking house and rip shirts with you."

"I won't get the haircut." It was always MJ that talked him out of irrational ideas. She smiled that mysterious side smile of hers, then sat on the tabletop nearest to them. Peter couldn't remember the last time she sat on a chair like a regular human being.

"Good. Now, tell me what's really going on." Peter looked at her, confused. She knew what was actually going on; anyone within a five-mile radius of him knew why he wanted to chop all his hair off and call it a day. "Don't give me that look." She nodded in the direction of Peter's arms, hair falling in front of her eyes. Peter realized what she was talking about then. He blushed, turning his wrist so that she couldn't see them, though they were already covered by the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's o-fucking-kay, Peter. I get it. Do you have a rubber band?"

Rubber band.

It was Peter's method of self-destruction when he was in school. MJ had caught onto it as soon as it started. From then on, whenever Peter had something elastic around his wrist, MJ would take it off without warning. It was one of the more frustrating things about her; she refused to let him hurt himself if she were anywhere near him. Why couldn't she just turn her head the other way?

Peter shook his head.

"Are you lying to me?"

Another shake.

"Can I look?"

Peter swallowed. He wasn't lying; there really were no rubber bands. But he didn't want MJ to see the wreckage he had made of his own body. He shook his head no again. MJ ignored this and crossed over to him. She didn't pull up his sleeves, to his gratefulness. Instead, she gripped his hand and slid her fingers under the sleeve. She didn't touch the inside of his wrist, just the outer part of it. She checked both sides before she was satisfied, letting go of him and sighing.

"Okay. Cool. Later, nerd headass."

Peter smiled, waving her goodbye.

* * *

 


	4. ease my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it wont go away

_**peter parker** : steve rogers is DUMMY thicc _

_**ned leeds:** bro can you shut the fuck up_

_**ned leeds** : oh my god _

_**ned leeds:** ohh my goddd Liz doesn't know _

_**ned leeds** : she just asked if you got into that school_ 

Peter threw up. 

On the spot, no hesitation from his digestion system. Vomited. Right onto his desk, where his homework lay undone.  

_**peter parker:** oh my fucjign god injust threw up _

_**peter parker** : i csnt breathe _

_**peter parker** : if she texts me about it tonight im going to lose my mind _

_**ned leeds** : ill tell her not to _

_**peter parker** : why am i not over it yet _

Peter spent the next few hours crying and cleaning up his own mess. 

He was still crying hours later when May got home. He was curled up on his bed, sobbing into his pillow. His chest ached and his entire face was hot with the pressure. May sat on the edge of his bed, brushing hair away from his eyes.  

"I know, baby," she soothed. "I know it hurts. You're going to be just fine, I promise." 

"Why didn't I get in?" Peter begged to no one in particular. Technically, the reason he got rejected was clear. So many applications. Not enough time. Getting accepted was a roll of the dice. 

Of course, this knowledge wouldn't stop him from hating himself. It wouldn't stop the waterfalls. It wouldn't reverse time and it wouldn't change the fact that Peter had tried to kill myself a few nights ago. 

May pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, rubbing his arm. Peter tried to stop the anxiety attack before it started. He sat up, fitting himself into May's arms.  

It was going to be a long night. 


End file.
